Thursday, July 31, 2003



Tuesday, July 29, 2003

Mr. Not So Softee

Can't a girl...just go up to the Mr. Softee truck
on a hot, sunny summer day and ask for a cone
with rainbow sprinkles and just get a frickin' cone
with rainbow sprinkles -not a cone with a side of
bedroom eyes and a leery smile?
Ick.




Sunday, July 27, 2003

KDunk Speaks German

Toot toot. Excuse me while I toot my own horn.
Today in the mail I received a copy of a German
magazine featuring a small interview with yours
truly-KDunk and a few other fine folks on the
subject of fotologs and blogs. Some of my
photographs were also printed in the article
which is pretty exciting.

I am quoted as saying things like,

"Ich nechme in meiner Mittagspause meine
Kamera mit und halte Ausschau nach Funshots..."

I hope I didn't say anything too sexy.

Thursday, July 24, 2003



Prepare to be amazed by THIS photo

Wednesday, July 23, 2003

Not Going Out Like That

The day I die let's hope it's not working a catering
gig serving a buffet style meal at the Mayor's office.
That was where I was today when someone opened
fire and shot Councilman Davis.

I should clarify that I was in the courthouse adjacent
to the Mayor's Office where the shooting took place.
Our dining room looked into the giant windows of
where everything went down. It was still scary because
we were not allowed to leave the building for a couple
of hours. At one point police were told a gunman was
loose in our building which made everyone panic and
stern police to yell, "I said get away from those windows
now!!!"

Our building was sealed off -giant wooden doors shut,
bullet proof glass down, officers running everywhere,
people being shuffled into rooms.

Emergencies bring out the most eclectic behaviors.
There were those that thought it was a good time
to revisit the tragedy of September 11th by sharing
stories. There were those that ran to the kitchen to
grab extra rolls afraid we would be trapped there all
night with no food. There were those that called loved
ones and those that were from other countries saying
this was nothing. Try growing up in South Africa.

In the middle of all the mess, one of the gay waiters
I worked with began changing out of his all black
catering uniform and into his bright colored blue and
yellow t-shirt and green sneakers. "Fuck it," he said.
"If I'm going to die honey, trust me it's not going to
be wearing all black."

Tuesday, July 22, 2003

It’s All Fun and Games Until Marisa Tomei Socks
Someone In The Balls

Last night I catered another party. The fellow wait staff
was hilarious. You never know who you’ll be teamed up
with for the night so when it’s a fun group the time goes
quickly.

There was the Kate Hudson looking actress who shared stories
about her passion for skydiving. There was the young Diana
Ross looking singer girl who belted out tunes in the kitchen
while we lined up to fill our trays with more food. There was
the tall, big smile Australian professional surfer / model /
photographer (we’ll get back to him later). And then there
was Jack. As usual Jack was the star of the night. Just back
from a two-month musical theater stint on a cruise ship, he
had all the one-liners. When some of the guys were having
trouble passing food through the crowd Jack said,
“Boys-you need to be aggressive and watch me. You
need to run…run like sperm!”

In attendance was Eddie Falco in a red speckled dress.
There was a super pregnant Molly Shannon. There was Fred
Schneider from the B52’s in fire engine red pants. There was
Danny Devitto sucking on a giant cigar. There was Rhea
Pearlman and their entire crew of short, frizzy haired kids.
There was Rhea’s mom who requested things piecemeal
from me all night in a raspy, Brooklyn accent:

Rhea’s mom: “Watah…(Water). I need a Watah.”
Me: “Sure ok.”
(15 minutes later I fight my way back to the VIP lounge
through the crowded dance floor)
Me: “Here ya go”
Rhea’s mom: “Cup. I needa cup.”
Me: “O…K. Be right back” (15 minutes later I return with a cup)
Rhea’s Mom: “Ice. I need ice.”
And so on and so forth.

The highlight of the night was when mistakenly during the
tune of ‘Footloose’ (NOTE: NEVER ATTEMPT TO CLEAR ANY
GLASS OBJECTS FROM A DANCE FLOOR DURING THE TUNE OF
‘FOOTLOOSE’) Australian surfer guy went to remove an empty
beer bottle off a ledge close to where Marisa Tomei was dancing
wildy in flip-flops. All of the sudden Marisa busted a move that
involved a frantic pony tail swing and then threw her hands
back violently socking Australian surfer guy hard in the nuts.
He went down like he’d been shot. Marisa, oblivious to what
just happened kept on dancing.

Joining him shortly after in the kitchen while he recuperated
I offered these words of comfort: Hey, at least you can say
you got socked in the balls by Marisa Tomei.

Sunday, July 20, 2003



Don't Tap The Waitress-Trust Me

I am looking for a job. I woke up this morning with those
Sunday blahs thinking of Monday when everyone will be
off to work and I will be who knows whating. Watching
Dr. Phil? Not really. Maybe. Sometimes I stress myself
out until an emotional paralysis where I start thinking
of all the money I owe to people, etc. This is not helpful.

I cater to earn extra cash sometimes. I recently worked
some model party where I carried around trays decorated
with the heads of sunflowers. When people talked over
the booming music, they would grab a chicken skewer off
my tray and stab it into the eye of the sunflower thinking
it was a dip. Are these people for real??? I must have
had this conversation 10,000 times that night:

(screaming over music)
"What is this??"
"Chicken skewers"
"WHAT?"
"Chicken skewers"
(person turns to friend confused)
friend says, '"What are they?"
"CHICKEN SKEWERS"
"Oh wow- thanks" -person turns to
friend, "They are chicken skewers"

This exhange takes place over 3-4 minutes over and
over again. On my way back to the kitchen with an
empty tray with only the sunflower decoration on it,
people would jab me in the side or tap me too hard
on the shoulder saying,

'Excuse me Miss? What is that? I'd like some?' to which
I'd say, 'Actually, it's nothing. It's a sunflower decoration.
I am heading to the kitchen to get more food.'

My tray is heavy. I want to go home.

Friday, July 18, 2003





Europe: A lotta lovin' going on.

Tuesday, July 15, 2003



I love summer. This photo of the kids from upstairs playing
reminds me of the time I saved all my money to buy a 'Slip
N' Slide'-remember those? A long sheet of yellow plastic that
would shoot water and make you slip and slide all over the
plastic. I remember my dad totally loved the Slip N' Slide. We
couldn't get the guy off that thing. The first night after I'd
bought it the whole family could hardly sit around the dinner
table thanks to our crushed and bruised ribs.

Monday, July 14, 2003





PMS'ing At The Miro Museum

We went to the Miro museum. Every day I said, 'Wanna go
to the Miro museum today? Huh? Huh?' or 'What about now?
Wanna go to the Miro museum now?' Boy oh boy did I want
to really go to that Miro museum! Finally the day came. It
was 10,000 degrees out and we had to hike a giant mountain
to get there. I rested 75 times up the hill totally out of breath.
At one point I burst into tears dehydrated, hungry and PMS'ing
saying, 'WHY ARE WE DOING THIS!!!'

To all the boyfriends out there that deal with their PMS'ing
gals may I say on behalf of all of us-we are truly very sorry.
Aside from my meltdown and a watery, smelly, overpriced
tuna salad from the museum cafe-it was great.

Some think Miro is a simpleton of sorts but I don't. Stand
under his piece Tapis de la Fundacio a massive, Miro painting
in the form of a tapestry/rug and tell me you don't feel
humble. A painting turned into a rug? That's like my
writing turned into a painting or a song turned into
a Jello mold. Ok. Maybe not a Jello mold but still.

Miro had his first solo show in 1918. His style had not yet
developed. He was still using the Cubist style of others like
Cezanne, etc. Miro hit his stride in the early 1930's. Trust
me that any deadline phobic writer you meet would be quite
inspired to hear that even Miro took twelve years to hit his
stride.

Miro says, "I feel that realism, a certain type of realism in
any art is an excellent way of overcoming dispair".

In regards to writers that inspire me by using humor as
an artistic outlet for expressing difficult situations- I'd
say he's right.

Sunday, July 13, 2003



Hola!

I am back from Spain. I ate Manchego cheese. I ate pony
meat, oysters and olives stuffed with anchovies. I saw a
bullfight (more writing and photos to come from that!). I
stayed out until three in the morning drinking Cava. I dove
off a boat with a snorkel and mask into the Mediterranean
Sea. I felt like a Bond girl. Now this Bond girl is back in
Brooklyn hanging up her bikini and looking for a new job.

Returning home I feel so rejuvenated. People in Europe
reminded me that living life to the fullest is the way to go.
Live it large but simple. In Europe people take naps. They
snack-don't stuff themselves. Shop keepers close from two
to four every day and people just deal. Can you imagine
Crate and Barrel shutting down for two hours mid-day??!
It would be all over the news--flocks of hysterical New
Yorkers unable to buy their pre-packaged Mediterranean
cheese straws and lobster pot trivets for their upcoming
parties in the Hamptons.

In the meantime it's 5am and I am wide awake.
Donde esta me cafe con leche por favor?

Thursday, July 03, 2003

Wednesday, July 02, 2003



Dear More Than Donuts Pals.

I am away on vacation to Spain. I will write to you
all soon. My friends are getting married and I will
be attending my first bullfight ever. It turns out an
old friend from childhood is now the top bullfighter
in Spain! Should prove for some interesting blogging
when I return.

Hasta pronto!


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